


Chokehold

by ludgerkresnik



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Choking, Hate Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Mutilation, Violence, Violent Sex, this is more violent than sexy i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludgerkresnik/pseuds/ludgerkresnik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are you sure?" He hisses. "Are you positive we're different?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chokehold

Above him, Russia looms, all shadow face and grins, the only lighting is a lamp and honestly, that would have been busted if Russia hadn't handcuffed him to the headboard. Yes, America is strong enough to snap the handcuffs in half, it would take a sharp tug or a pull, and he'd be free, but it's not worth getting punched over.

For these two, it's always a push and a pull. A little comment here, a passive aggressive motion and statements. They _know_ how to get under each others skin, but Russia takes more enjoyment in setting America off. Maybe it's the expressions to how loud America can get when he's upset, Russia doesn't really know why he enjoys it. He just does.

America thrashes a little bit and Russia straddles him, fingers massaging circles on his bruised hips.

“We're a lot alike,” he muses. That is one of his favorite triggers, Russia decides. The glare is unmistakable, lips pulled back in a snarl. America thrashes more.

“Like hell.” Comes the hiss. “We're _nothing_ alike.” Russia laughs, mocking and a hand finds its way to America's throat.

“Are you sure?” He hisses. “Are you _positive_ we're different?” America graces him no response, and Russia tightens his grip. There's a noise, and he holds tighter, watching light skin slowly turn a worrying shade of blue. Using his other hand, he reaches down and grabs America's half erect cock, slowly beginning to pump it. One the blue starts to turn purple, is when Russia actually releases America's throat and listens to him gasp for air. Perhaps he crushed a wind pipe.

Reaching down with the hand that had America's throat, he picks up a piece of broken glass and holds it up. The glass itself is from a broken vodka bottle, which had been thrown against the nearby wall earlier, and the reason for that evades him now. Somewhere between offhand comments, heavy drinking and a rivalry that has been going on for over sixty years now, reasons stop being reasons and it happens as _just because._ America hates being on the bottom, and will often complain about it.

“All great things come to an end, pet.”

“ _Don't_ call me that.” America snarls. He curses when the sharp edge of the glass pierces the skin on his stomach, the red liquid slowly pooling up. Goosebumps form as some of the blood trickles down, and Russia continues to make incisions, watching as more drops of blood form and trickle down, some hitting the bed sheets.

By now, Alfred is once again erect, and holding back tears. With a grin, Russia tosses the glass to the side, and moves down, giving the head of Alfred's cock a lick. He wraps his lips around the head, and without a moments hesitation, deep-throats him, the girth making it hard to breathe. Russia draws in a deep breath through his nose and gives a hard suck, earning a groan.

Just as quickly, he pulls off, leaving a string of saliva and pre-cum behind, and crawls up, hand reaching for the discarded bottle of lube and squeezes some onto his bloodied fingers. He quickly slips his fingers in, and makes a quick scissoring motion and soon after, fingers out and he thrusts in.

Russia smirks as America squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a hiss, and he plants a soft kiss on his cheek and begins to move. Slowly at first, but quickly picks up his pace, not caring if he's hurting the other or not. Somewhere along the way, Russia hears the sound of metal cracking and breaking, and the headboard snapping in half, and finds himself underneath a pissed off America.

He grunts a little when teeth breath the skin at his stomach, and a fist follows next. With a growl, Russia reaches up and encloses his hand around America's neck once more, raises one knee and shoves it into America's side and flips them around again.

This time, the grip is tighter than before and with a few more jerks of his hips, Russia lets out a little groan as he cums. Pulling out, he finally releases America's throat and laughs a little as America gasps for breath.

The Russian teases the tip of America's erect penis for a moment, watching as the look of fear and desperation crosses his reddened face. It amuses him, really, to see those pretty blue eyes turn red and puffy, to watch the fear start to show.

“Why should I finish you off, I wonder? You've been a naughty, disobedient child. They get punished, not rewarded.”

“I am not a child, so fuck you.” America hisses and jerks his hips, knowing that if he moves his hands, Russia will just punch him or cause him worse pain. He hates being vulnerable.

“Perhaps not...” Russia murmurs and quickly jerks his wrist, thumb pressing and rubbing at the top and America groans, twitching and cums.

America licks his lips, and sits up when Russia moves away from him, wiping his hand on the bedding as he does so. “D'ya love me that much, that you weren't rushin' to finish ta finish me off?”

Russia looks at him, violet eyes darkening a little, a scowl forming. His clean hand curls into a fist, and punches him square in the face.


End file.
